Puppet on a String
by WorldOnlyIKnow
Summary: What if Morgana was merely a puppet? What if she started to realize it was Morgause pulling her strings? Post-S2 Pre-S3 Merlin/Morgana if you squint.


A/N: Written because I could NOT get this idea out of my head.

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><p>Cenred's castle isn't as impressive as Camelot's – it seems to always be full of shadows while Camelot's is full of light. I thought about all that's changed in the few months since Merlin's attempt on my life. Before I was the beloved ward of King Uther, now I am the younger, ignorant sister of the sorceress Morgause. I may hate Uther, but I miss the respect the title of King's ward granted me. Here I am just a visiting no-name noble who can't even attend any of the few banquets Cenred holds for fear of someone recognizing me and sending word back to Camelot. I'm practically a prisoner.<p>

I huff as I continued down the hall, making my way from the tense dinner with my sister and Cenred I just stormed out of. My magic may still be weak, but that doesn't make me a helpless child! My dreams, while normally perplexing, have come in useful before – I don't know why she thinks it's a bad idea to remove my bracelet. A night of restless sleep would be worth the information I may gather from my visions – or at least that's what I think, Morgause seems to believe other wise. Her words from minutes prior replaying in my head.

"I do not want you to suffer needlessly, sister." Morgause had said in her calm, patronizing way – speaking to me as if I were a child.

"I'm tired of sitting around in this dank castle plotting while Uther and that bastard serving boy live in comfort." I mumble to myself as I make my way into my private room in a barely used wing of said castle and begin to undress myself. Times like these I really miss Gwen and her efficient hands to help me from the complicated ties of my dresses. Yet, just like every previous time I thought fondly of Camelot, my memories quickly turned dark.

It seems that I can't ever think of Camelot without reliving my terrifying last minutes within the throne room, or remembering all of Uther's heinous crimes. Whenever I think fondly of Gwen, Arthur, or any of the many peasant and nobles alike I made friends with over the years I'm immediately bombarded by my hatred of Uther and the traitorous manservant Merlin. I remember all the innocent people executed and the burning pain as I gasped for breath on the throne room floor, but the one thing I can never remember, no matter how much I try, is the look on Merlin's face as I lay dying.

The last thing I remember seeing before opening my eyes to Morgause's concerned face is the image of Merlin standing with his back to me as I drink from his poisoned water skin. Oh, I remember the feeling of betrayal and pain that followed perfectly, but my visual memory of what happens after I take that deadly gulp of water is a complete blank. I've imagined though or at least I've tried, but whenever I think of Merlin sneering down at me as I struggle to breathe it always feels wrong. I just can't think of him wearing such an expression.

"Why? Why did he try to kill me?" I wonder for the thousandths time, but no answer comes to me from the silent corners of my room, and I soon forget why I think it odd for him to try and kill me. He is an evil man like Uther, what reason do evil men need to kill. I shake myself out of my musings and walk to my dresser and pick up my brush, continuing with my night time ritual in silence. Not bothering to question the sudden halt to my thoughts towards Merlin's motives, when I would normally continue to question until I had an answer.

As I lie in my bed trying to fall asleep my thoughts again wander to the bracelet upon my wrist. I feel the weight of it and suddenly want nothing more than to tear it off and throw it across the room. Sitting up quickly I bring my wrist to my face and examine the engraved metal more closely. Why don't I remove it? I have never been one to follow orders before so why do I bow to Morgause's will so easily?

Taking in a deep breath, I slowly pull the metal from my wrist – a sudden unease comes over me just as the metal drops to my silken sheets. The moment my bracelet is removed though it's as if a door to a part of me I didn't even know was shut opened. Relief fills my body and I feel more myself than I have in months. I breath out a breathe I didn't even know I was holding and pick up Morgause's bracelet, setting it on my bedside table. Really, what harm can one night without it do.

That night I dream as I have never dreamed before. My visions are as clear as day. I see everything as if it is happening directly in front of me and I stand there, a ghostly spectator to a terrifying tragedy. I watch myself become more bitter and hateful under Morgause's careful tutelage. I see my return to Camelot and the chaos that follows. I am unable to close my eyes to the horrors I bestowed on the people of Camelot when I take the thrown, the atrocities I commit in the name of justice. I cry out when I order the slaughtering of innocent peasants in an attempt to make the knights bow to my authority, and through it all Morgause stands at my side pulling my strings and smirking. A puppet, I am nothing more than her puppet!

I don't feel sorry for what I do to Uther, but my crimes again Arthur, my brother, tear at my heart. I cry with Gwen, as she is forced to lead her beloved into a trap. I curse at myself every time I see this future version of me smirk at the misfortune of others and I cheer when Merlin foils my plans with magic… Magic! Merlin, Arthur's clumsy, silly manservant has magic! And even though I should be, I'm not mad, because I see the dragon to. I see the dragon who Merlin commands. The dragon who calls me a witch and tells Merlin that I'm the darkness to his light, the hatred to his love, and I know this overgrown reptile is the reason Merlin never told me of his magic.

I forgive Merlin for not telling me about his magic. I forgive Merlin for poisoning me, but I don't forgive Morgause – she forced his hand, she is the one who used me to spread the sleeping plague across Camelot. Morgause is the one to blame for forcing one of my most trusted friends to poison me. She is the reason for the pain reflected in Merlin's eyes as he watches me die – for I remember now. I remember looking into his eyes and seeing nothing but sorrow and pain – his light completely vanquished. I remember him holding me close as I slowly lost consciousness, whispering to me how sorry he was and how it was the only way.

The last vision I see before waking is of Merlin and I standing on a magical island facing each other over a stone table. We are older and there is weariness in Merlin's stance – as if he's given up. Morgause's influence is gone, but it's no longer needed –my soul is tainted. His eyes glow golden with magic, but beneath is a deep hatred I have only ever seen reflected in my own eyes and a soul crushing sorrow – for he still, years afterwards, blames himself for what I have become.

As I wake from my night of fitful sleep, I make a promise to both myself and the warlock, lying in bed, miles away. I promise to never become his hatred.

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><p>AN: I'm thinking about making this a two parter. Should I continue?


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